Here and Now
by northwest-walking
Summary: OC/OC. Emma is journeying through a walker-infested world on her own... until she runs into someone from her past. Can they survive together, or will this new life tear them apart? Rated M for language, violence, sexual content and assault, and suicidal themes.
1. Berries

She felt the sweat drip down her heaving chest as the walker staggered closer. The knife clung to her palm, and her fingers gripped around it tightly. Her eyes squinted under the sun's rays as she tried to view the lurching corpse better, quietly wishing that sunglasses were still a privilege she could enjoy. Despite the typical Northwest weather she was used to, summer had come early and the sun beat down on her tattered jacket every day. Apparently the weather never got the memo that the world had gone to shit.

The walker was getting closer to her, gnashing what remained of its rotting teeth together as it snarled and reached toward her. The garden she had cut through in hopes of finding some now-wild food in the unkempt shrubbery turned out to be a mistake. It had become an attraction to forestry animals, and this consequently attracted the undead. When the shit originally hit the fan, the walkers seemed to prefer human flesh or the occasional horse rather than any other species, but as time went on, the human race died out and the walkers weakened from hunger. The creatures she had gotten used to in her everyday life seemed to be getting more and more desperate to find any live meat they could.

The bushes of the garden had grown tall and thick in just the past year, and Emma assumed that the garden had been abandoned long before the disease had begun spreading. Getting through the thicket had limited her visibility, so the walker took her by surprise after she had turned the corner, dropping a container of berries she had managed to fill.

Now here she was, backed up in a corner, clinging fiercely to one of her two remaining weapons, just being grateful it was the one walker instead of a herd. Still, the exhaustion of surviving out on her own the past month had taken its toll on her, and she could feel the dehydration and hunger affecting her ability to focus and react at a moment's notice. Despite the dizziness and exhaustion she was feeling, Emma gripped onto the knife, determined to not let one walker be her demise after a year of surviving this hellhole. The tall fence surrounding most of the garden didn't allow for her to go over or around, so she had no choice but to face the creature head on. Even though Emma had faced many biters in the year she had been surviving, she wouldn't let this be casual for her. She needed to stay alert and focus on the task at hand: staying alive for one more minute, one more hour. One more day.

The walker was getting too close for Emma to want to waste another second. She raised the serrated hunting knife that had saved her life many times before, aiming it directly at the head of the decaying body. This particular one was significantly shorter than her, and her height gave an advantage as she plunged the knife deep into its brain, holding on to the grime-ridden head of a now twice dead corpse. She then swiftly pulled her knife out from its bloody remains like she had a thousand times before. Breathing heavily from the effort, she forcefully stepped on the head of the corpse with her hiking boot for good measure. The crunch that resulted confirmed the overall look of the walker: this person had been dead long before any knife sunk into its brain.

Emma had never thought about the human decaying process much before the world went to hell, but seeing it every day for the past year forced her to almost accidentally learn what a freshly dead corpse looked like when compared to one that had been dead from the beginning.

Wiping her knife off on the nearby grass, Emma stuck her weapon back into its sheath and returned to the berries that had fallen onto the ground. Scooping them up into her hands, she returned them to the U-Pick bucket she had found on the property and swung the attached rope around her neck and across her body. The buckets reminded her of being a kid, aimlessly picking blueberries with her sister as they snuck them, unwashed, into their mouths, running through the aisles of endless fruit, and screaming when one of them ran into the spider webs that commonly formed between the bushes.

Those days were long gone, and now there were other things to scream about that came from behind bushes. And from behind trees. And houses. And… everywhere.

Her sister didn't last long in this new world. They had been separated for months now after an attack from a herd. The traumatic event had left both her parents dead and her sister off running with nothing but a pocketknife to protect her. Emma assumed the worst, and after months of aimless searching, she couldn't seem to assume anything else. She didn't want to anymore.

Emma walked away from the garden and into a nearby field that gave her more visibility. She sat down on the grass, slowly eating the berries and vegetables that had managed to survive without aid from whoever used to tend to it. Careful to go slowly, Emma focused on each savory bite. It had been too long since she had eaten. Consuming one thing too fast could be enough to make a person sick, and throwing up would be a waste of the time and danger it took to get some substance in her body. She had learned that a few weeks back when she had gone for almost three days without much of anything. Her first feast on a can of beans had overexcited her to the point where her stomach wanted none of it, rejecting the idea completely. From then on she had been careful to absorb every bit of nutrition she could as slowly as possible. Her body was learning to live without much food, and after a year of on-and-off uncertainty when it came to meals, she was shrinking fast. Days on end of walking, running, and trying to survive had made her endurance strong, but the lack of food took its toll on her too. Soon she knew there wouldn't be canned food left to scavenge. The world was returning to a hunter-gatherer system, and this was one of the many gardens Emma had stumbled upon to take advantage of. At least it was something. At least she was alive.

Someone was up ahead on the road. Emma raised her hand over her eyes to block out the sun, determining if the subject was dead or alive. At this point, she preferred dead. She could deal with walkers. She could stab walkers. Humans on the other hand, especially men, become all too aggressive when they find lone girls at the end of the world. She had learned that the hard way.

_ His breath on her neck. His body weighing her down. Her pants coming off. The screaming. The walkers. The gun he shot at them. The revolver she grabbed. The shot at him. The blood. More walkers. His screams. Running, running, running. _

That was weeks ago, but it felt like minutes. Or years. Never anything in between. Everything felt so near and far away at the same time.

Isolation can do that to a person. She barely knew the month. Did it matter anymore? Did anything matter?

All that mattered was the person—definitely alive—walking in her direction. Not purposefully, for they were staying on the road, but in her direction nonetheless. Emma's instincts perked up as she reached for the gun concealed under her jacket—three bullets left—and quickly made sure all her other possessions were secure on her—bucket, backpack, jacket, gun, knife. Go.

She quickly ran to the nearest grove of trees that stood nearby. In the West side of Oregon, the trees she was able to hide behind grew in abundance. The coverage had saved her ass multiple times from people and walkers alike. Quickly catching her breath, Emma tried to control the adrenaline that was surging through her body. When was the last time adrenaline wasn't overwhelming her? She couldn't remember. Even on the rare moments she got to sleep for a couple hours at a time, the slightest noise would cause her to wake up. She had even begun to set up traps and noisemakers around her at night, but that still wouldn't put her mind at ease enough to sleep comfortably. Adrenaline was a part of her life now; pumping through her veins like her whole bloodstream was made of it.

Emma dared to look out from behind the tree. Despite everything her instinct told her, curiosity was still one of her weak points. It had gotten her in enough trouble before the infection spread, but its existence in the life she was living now could cost her life. She knew that. She was careful. Mostly.

"Peaking out won't hurt," she thought to herself. "I'm far up enough where they won't see me."

She turned around slowly, double-checking behind to make sure no walkers were exploring the small, forested area, and peered around the tree she had quickly chosen. Her hand still gripped around the small pistol she kept with her at all times for encounters with the living.

The person had dark hair, likely male. They didn't look too intimidating in terms of size, but that didn't necessarily mean anything. With a good enough weapon, even a child could become deadly. And anyway, any living person who was alive at this point had strengths to them. Emma knew that.

She squinted as the person walked closer. They were peering over at the garden she had just been in. Emma could tell it was male now. He turned to his side, and she could see just how skinny he was. It was almost terrifying how scrawny he looked, even by apocalyptic standards. He started to walk up the slope to the garden, and, pulling a hatchet out of his opened backpack, the man disappeared into the garden.

Emma sunk down into the dirt as she exhaled out, realizing that she had been holding her breath as she watched him. He was by himself, and he looked small enough, so the likelihood of him being a threat was slim. Still, she knew that getting out of here was the best idea. Should she stay on the road though? He seemed to be determined in going the same direction she was, and Emma didn't want to be caught up with. Exposure had its disadvantages, but she also wasn't so keen on gambling her life in the denser trees where visibility was limited.

Considering her options, Emma jumped up when she heard a shout coming from the garden.

"Fuck," she thought. Walkers. Or worse. She needed to get out of here. Forest or road? Forest or road? Her mind was racing. If they were walkers, the road would be safer, but if people had gotten into the large garden through a back way, or had been there all along, her vulnerability on the road would increase more than she cared to deal with.

She suddenly heard a gunshot from the forest, and the same dark-haired boy she saw earlier went sprinting through the field. Straight to her.

"Fuck," she thought, her heart pounding harder than it would if a thousand walkers were heading toward her. "I know that face."


	2. Us

Emma quickly ducked behind to the other side of the tree, hoping beyond all hope that he hadn't seen her. She closed her eyes for half a moment and prayed that she had imagined the face. Gripping even harder onto the pistol that felt dangerously small in her hands, Emma began running along the edge of the forest, weaving in and out of the trees in an attempt to stay off the road. The bucket was slapping against her thigh, weighing her down as she struggled to flee the scene quickly. Grabbing it by the edge with one hand, Emma continued to run down the side of the road, acting on the flight instinct she had grown to prefer.

"Hey!" she heard exclaimed from behind her. "Wait!"

"Idiot," Emma thought to herself, running even faster than she had before. Spotting an opening in the continuing forest across the road, Emma made the choice to cut across and onto the other makeshift path. Pivoting her feet to change direction, Emma turned to the road only to trip over a root sticking out from the ground. Tumbling onto the dirt, Emma began a clumsy fall down the small incline, hitting various rocks and sticks along the way. Grunting from the pain and frustration, Emma realized that her knee was what stung worse than anything else. Adrenaline had helped her process both the physical and emotional pain that had resulted from the past year, and this was no different. The fall had caused her bucket to spill all of its contents onto the road, so she quickly threw it over her head in an effort to abandon it.

Her struggle to get away had unfortunately allowed him to catch up to her. The sun was so bright in her eyes; she squinted as the figure's silhouette hovered over her. Finally, he moved into a position that blocked the sun and gave her a clear view of a face she thought she would never see again. Not once. Not even dead.

"Em?" Andrew asked. His eyes were fixated on her, requesting validation that she was indeed still alive after all this time.

Before Emma could even decide to open her mouth to say something, or jump up and attempt to continue into the forest, they were interrupted.

"Man, oh man," a deep, booming voice came up from behind Andrew. It was a large man stepping toward them on the road. Emma assumed he was the one that had fired his gun back in the garden. "Looks like you got yerself a lil' _slut_. Good thing too, it's been a while since me 'n Bill here've gotten us a nice piece of ass."

The redheaded, balding man held a hunting rifle in his hands. He wore a torn-up, stained shirt and dirty camo pants that sagged generously from the waist, and his beer gut hadn't gone away much in the past year despite the common starvation everyone else seemed to be enduring.

Emma began to shake as she saw the even larger blond man coming up from behind him.

They didn't look too different from the man that had attacked her last month.

It seemed that all the rural hunters and farmers in Oregon had begun to appear from their cabins in the woods and start to roam the state, surviving off the land. To a lot of them, Emma had realized, is that they saw this version of hell as an adventure to make use of the skills they grew up with. Living off the land, sleeping under the stars, and in her experience, occasionally stumbling upon a weak and wandering girl to rape.

Emma had escaped from this sort once. She was determined to escape again, but there was only one of them last time. And more walkers around to cause a diversion. All she had now was one knife, one small-ass pistol, a bleeding knee, and a boy she hadn't seen in at least four years.

"So here's what's gon' happen, boy," the redhead said, pointing his gun at Andrew. "First we're gon' kill you, 'n then we're gun' take care of yer lil' lover here."

He was smiling. Emma couldn't believe he was _smiling_. At least the last one had been angry.

Jumping away from her spot on the ground, Emma pointed her gun straight at his head.

"Woah, woah, woah, lil' lady," the man said, holding his hands out, his gun no longer pointing at Andrew. By now Andrew had his hatchet in a defensive position, blocking the man from getting a full body view of Emma. The man continued stepping slowly towards them, loose gravel from the asphalt crunching under his combat boots. Emma's arm didn't waver from pointing straight at him from over Andrew's shoulder. Their matching height allowed for their bodies to synchronize with one another in defense against the two strangers.

The blond man now stood next to the redhead, a machete held menacingly in his hands as he smirked at them both, as if their 5'7" frames and tiny weapons were amusing in comparison to the men and their defenses.

Emma remained standing behind Andrew, irritated that he was blocking her like some kind of martyr, but this wasn't the time to refuse the shield he was providing for her. Especially when no more than a word had been shared between them for years.

She kept quiet, staring into the eyes of the man that intended to harm her. Harm them both.

"Now," the man continued, casually turning his rifle to its side and thoughtfully examining it. He looked up at her with what seemed like an attempt at aggressive flirtation. "Fer all I know, that itty bitty gun of yers has nothin' in it at all. The way I figure it, even if it does, it doesn't seem 'ta be the best means of defense, 'specially 'gainst me." In response to this, Emma pulled the hammer back so he could hear the click. It wasn't necessary to get her shot, but his lack of fear from her threat caused her to instinctively respond without having to say a word.

"Not that I'm sayin' yer not a good shot, I'm sure ya are," he kept going, a bit faster now, his gun pointed to her and Andrew again, "all I'm sayin' is that we could protect ya." Emma knew he wasn't talking to Andrew when he said this. "'Course, you'll have'ta do us some favors," he said with a chuckle, his eyes wandering over to Andrew, whose shoulders were as tense as Emma had ever seen them. Despite this, his hatchet stayed in front of them both without Andrew giving the slightest hint at any visible fear. The man's gun continued to point right at the two of them, but neither of them faltered. Emma assumed that Andrew, much like her, was not experiencing the threat of a gun for the first time.

The man kept walking slowly toward the two of them, his rifle ready to shoot at any moment. The suspense of the standoff was tensing more and more with each passing second, and Emma could tell that the man would soon be done with his taunting and shoot Andrew right in the head without hesitation. He would then attempt to rape her.

Emma knew all of these things would happen. She had witnessed similar things happen multiple times. If she didn't do something soon, she might not get her chance.

"Whaddya say," the redhead asked, addressing Andrew. Emma could see sweat dripping down his neck from behind. Whether it was from the heat, or adrenaline, or both, she couldn't say. "Ready to stop protectin' yer lil' bitch?"

Time seemed to dramatically slow down as Emma focused her aim directly at the man's head.

"I protect myself, asshole," she declared through clenched teeth, the gun going off and bullet flying straight into his temple before he could even react to her statement. Emma then quickly aimed at the now charging blond and, with a little extra force on the trigger, got him in the chest using her second to last bullet. Andrew reacted quickly as the man's yellowed tank top bled through, taking his hatchet and slicing it into the side of his brain. Even when walkers weren't the cause of death, the threat of turning was always there. It was better to be safe than sorry.

Emma and Andrew stood over the two men silently, processing what had just happened.

Discreetly wiping away a tear that had escaped her eye, Emma bent down over the first man she had shot and grabbed his rifle. Slinging it over her shoulder, she knelt down and turned his body around, taking off his backpack and searching through its contents. A flashlight, a knife, some string and cans for an alarm system, and a single can of chili. Snatching the meal up quickly, Emma stuffed it into her own backpack and glanced at the other man. He didn't seem to have anything on him other than that machete, and Emma had her own weapons. The rifle might become useful now that she only had a single bullet left, but other than that, extra weapons would just weigh her down more. The bucket reminded her of that, since all its contents now lay scattered across the road.

Emma looked down at her knee. It was bad, and the fall had cut through her already worn out jeans, but it wasn't affecting her walking. That was good. She grabbed a bottle and bandana from her backpack, then dapped some of the liquid from the bottle onto the cut. The pain stung, but it was better than getting an infection.

"Is that… vodka?" Andrew asked, noticing the label.

Emma nodded without looking away from her knee. Hydrogen peroxide wasn't exactly easy to find nowadays, and vodka would still help. She tied the bandana around her leg tightly afterward, the soaked part still resting on top of the cuts that covered her knee.

Emma stood up again. A few walkers had wandered onto the road, but the small cluster was too far away to pose a threat.

The months of being on the road had trained Emma to be selective with her killing. Even though most walker kills were done with her hunting knife, destroying every single one would be pointless. She didn't have that kind of energy. If they weren't close, they weren't her problem.

The pistol rested on the ground, its last bullet feeling almost pointless as Emma picked it up and put it back in her jacket's concealed pocket. Holding on to the straps of her backpack and the strap of her newly acquired rifle, she turned around and began walking down the road again.

Emma didn't even look at Andrew. She couldn't.

"Hey!" he said, protesting as she continued on. "Wait up!"

Emma didn't pause. She couldn't stop walking. She had to keep going.

He caught up with her and walked in step with her, almost rhythmically. When they were younger, he used to walk this exact same way as they strode down the streets, trumpets in hand. Their black uniforms from marching band made them sweat almost as bad as they were now.

That was so long ago, Emma thought. That memory seemed to come from another lifetime.

"Em," he said, gently, looking at her. His eyes searched her face for any sign of emotion. She still couldn't look at him, not even when he was right there. She was still processing what had just happened. She was still in shock.

The incident of last month had traumatized her more than she realized sometimes. She knew she was developing PTSD from living around walkers—her sleeping habits and jumpy nature were evidence enough for that—but this was different. Her fear and weariness of strangers, especially the living, grew stronger all the time. The possibility of being raped again was always on her mind, sometimes even more than being bit by a walker. She couldn't seem to shake it. When those men had come toward them, threatening to make use of her until she died or somehow escaped… Emma couldn't bear it.

She had once watched and heard a woman die after a gang rape only a few months before. Emma had taken shelter in the second story of a house, and with the window open she could hear the woman's screams for help. She sat frozen under the windowsill, clinging her bent legs close with her head down as the woman kept screaming and screaming for what felt like hours. Emma didn't dare help her. She knew there were too many of them. No one would ever come to help that woman. It tore Emma apart. She couldn't stand it. No one would help. Not even if they wanted to.

"Em," Andrew repeated again, pulling her out of the train of thought. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she snapped at him, still looking straight ahead.

"Hey—hey, hey, hey," he said, jumping in front of her and gently holding her arms to her side. "Don't just shut me out, okay? Jesus, I didn't even know you were alive. I didn't think _anyone_ I know was alive." She pushed his hands away from her arms and kept walking, but he didn't falter. "Shouldn't we stop for a second?" he asked, continuing their march up the road.

"There's no we," Emma replied hesitantly, genuinely confused about his pronoun choice. "I'm going by myself."

"What?" he said in confusion, his brown, almond-shaped eyes squinting as his brow furrowed. "Em, I'm going with you. What the hell do you expect me to do? Just start walking in the other direction?"

"You seem to be doing just fine on your own," Emma said.

"Em."

Finally, she turned and looked straight at Andrew.

Damn. He looked like hell. His jeans were crusty and covered with dirt and blood, and his shirt looked even worse. You could tell that the soles of his shoes were wearing out. He probably hadn't worn any other shoes for the past year, Emma thought. His midnight black hair had grown so long; it was now naturally pushed back from his face because of how oily it was. She could only imagine the last time he had bothered to wash a single part of him. He smelled awful, and nothing about him was how she remembered. Then again, she probably didn't look much better. Her light brown, frizzy hair was pushed up in a tight bun with the only hair tie she had left. She managed to retie it every day to prevent it from getting loose and grabbed by something or someone, but other than that, she hadn't bothered to do any maintenance on herself that wasn't practical. Her layers of tank tops had become loose as she lost more weight from hunger every week, and her belt was wearing out from trying to hold up jeans that had become too big. The only thing of quality she had were some hiking shoes she had taken off of a walker. Her jacket had been pretty worn out before everything happened, but now it was even worse. Despite the warm weather, she didn't dare take it off. The nights were cold, and Oregon weather was unpredictable. Every part of her had dried blood or dirt on it one way or another, and she knew she looked the worst she ever had in her whole life.

At another time in their lives, the way they looked and smelled may have embarrassed them both. At this point though, when they were the first familiar faces they had seen in a while, it didn't matter. Nothing that used to matter did anymore. Everything had changed, and Emma could see that he had changed.

"I'm sorry," she said, trying to sound assertive. "I just…" her voice wavered anyway, but she still tried to not let him read her face too easily. "I've been on my own for a while now. Ever since… my family… I haven't…"

She didn't need to finish her sentence. He nodded, quietly looking at her.

"I lost mine too," he told her. "Mom, Dad, Jacob… even Sophie. Jacob and Sophie and I were out on our own for a while, but then…" Andrew's eyes got distant, like he was looking at something that wasn't Emma. "They were too young," he finished. "Sophie was only six when it happened. Jacob tried to save her, but…" he shook his head.

It was Emma's turn to nod. He didn't need to say anything else.

"I'm heading to the coast," she offered. "I figure that maybe there might be less walkers, or I could find my grandparent's boat, and…" this was the first time she had said any of this out loud. "I know it's stupid."

"Hey, any idea is better than nothing," Andrew replied with a smirk. "I was literally just wandering before coming across you. At least you've got a destination."

"Did I say you could come?" she teased, warming up to the idea. It never took much when it came to Andrew, she realized. It had always been that way with him.

"I think using me as a human shield is cause for you to owe me a few favors," he casually mused, stepping into pace again with her as they continued up the road.

"Oh, right," Emma replied in a sarcastic tone. "Because me shooting two people for you until I had only one bullet left was absolutely nothing."

Suddenly, a walker lunged from out of the forest, snarling at them. Its lips had decayed so much; its rotting gums were exposed. As it staggered closer to them, Emma sighed, grabbing her knife from its sheath and stabbing it directly in the forehead without hesitation. The walker fell onto the harsh gravel on the side of the road as Emma pulled her knife away. Its dirty overalls hinted at how rural they were getting, and Emma worried that scavenging would become more difficult soon until they reached the coast.

_They_. There were those pronouns again. _We_. _Us._ Together.

Emma glanced at Andrew. His face looked so tired, so worn. He had watched her as she killed two men and one walker within minutes of each other, yet he hadn't questioned it once. It felt so odd to meet someone at two completely different times in life, but Andrew seemed to easily accept the survivalist, practically post-apocalyptic version of Emma. It had kept them alive.

"Look out," he warned her casually, stepping forward toward a second walker that had emerged from the woods. Taking his hatchet with both hands, he wacked the side of its head with a quick force, slicing open the brain.

Both of them stood there, staring at the corpses. Andrew shook his head and looked up and down the road as Emma cleaned up and put away her knife.

"They seem to be really spaced out here," he noted, spotting one probably a mile back.

"Yeah," Emma agreed. "We're getting more rural. Once we're up the mountain, I doubt there'll be many at all unless a herd formed and wandered all the way up there. I guess we'll have to wait and see."

"_We_?" he asked, making sure he had heard her right. "So I'm coming with you now?"

"Don't get too excited," Emma said, fighting a smile. Truthfully, she was glad to have a familiar face with her again. "Come on," she said, handing him the rifle. "Let's cover as much ground as we can before the sun goes down. Maybe we can even find a house somewhere. They're kind of spread out in this area, but they're around." She turned and began walking up the road, which was beginning to incline from the mountain between the valley and the coast. Looking behind her, she noticed that he was still staring at her, a beyond-goofy smile on his face.

"You comin'?" she asked him.

Andrew nodded.

Emma smiled, turned around, and continued on, her newfound companion following close behind.

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><p><strong>AN: Please review! It would mean a lot.**


	3. Dreams

**A/N: Shorter chapter because it was originally five times longer than this, so I decided to split it up into parts. This was the only split that made sense. **

**Next chapter should be up soon since this one is so short. **

* * *

><p>Emma woke up with a start. The rattle of the can alerted her that someone—or something—would be close enough to kill her in a matter of moments.<p>

Jumping up from her prior sleeping position, the knife from her belt already in hand, Emma charged at the walker before it could get an inch closer. The blood from its brain splattered onto Emma's hair, face, and neck. She could feel the new grime land on top of a dry layer of mud, adding to what was already a week's worth of dirt and walker blood. Or had it been weeks?

Emma couldn't remember the last time she had an opportunity to wash off. Being alone prevented her from putting her guard down long enough. Surviving was more important, but she couldn't remember the last time she had felt clean. She missed feeling normal.

Emma thought she had spotted a creek down from the road. Maybe she would try to go there today. The dry weather was taking away the typical northwest rain, and she hadn't had any stored water since yesterday. Trying to find that creek again for fresh water would be an excuse to wash off the layers of blood and dirt she was obviously accumulating.

Turning around after the walker toppled backwards and onto the ground, Emma noticed the tarp she had been lying on. Had there been another body beside her last night? The drowsiness from sleep was preventing her from discerning between dreams and reality.

"Andrew?" Emma called, her voice quiet to avoid the attraction of any more walkers nearby.

"Andy…" she repeated, her voice wavering as she came to the realization that it must have been a dream. The possibility of anyone being alive, let alone him, was slim.

Emma couldn't estimate how many survivors were left, but it couldn't be more than thirty percent of the population. Maybe less.

It was hard to tell. The news had cut off early into the outbreak, and it had happened so fast. Emma and her family evacuated as soon as the warnings went out, and even then it was difficult to leave the city.

There were so many bodies. So many walkers. So much fear, uncertainty. But they had gotten out. They had survived together. For a while.

"Yeah?" she suddenly heard a voice answer from behind a tree.

Andrew appeared in front of her. He was crudely zipping up his jeans.

Glancing down, he saw the dead walker at her feet.

"Dammit," he muttered, inspecting the walker before stepping over it and the noisemakers to get to her. "I was only gone for a minute. I tried to stay and keep watch, but," he looked at her sheepishly. "I just had to pee super bad."

"Yeah, well," Emma furrowed her brow at him as he continued to give her a guilty look. His expression reminded her so much of when they were younger. When mistakes wouldn't have made the difference between life and death.

She fought between two instincts: wanting to embrace Andrew from the shock of him actually being alive, and wanting to hit him for leaving her alone while she was asleep. "Next time just wake me up, okay? We gotta have a system to stay alive."

"Yeah," he agreed, going over to the tree that had the string wrapped around it. Gathering it up, he circled around her and continued to bundle up their makeshift noise trap. She started to roll up the tarp they had slept on that night.

The silence between them seemed deafening to Emma. It was a form of communication she had barely ever experienced with him before.

* * *

><p>They had hardly exchanged a word last night as they had rolled out the tarp together, her legs shaking from the cold and the proximity of his body warming hers. She couldn't remember the last time she had slept so close to somebody besides her sister.<p>

He had wrapped the remainder of the tarp over their bodies, his hand hesitating as it hovered over her. She knew he wondered whether or not placing his arm around her body for extra warmth was a good idea or not, but ultimately he had decided against it as his arm went back to lie across his chest.

They had laid side by side, their backs on the hard ground as they gazed up at the stars together. The night sky was a thousand times more brilliant than anything Emma could remember from before.

She had never learned any of the constellations past the big and little dipper, but even those were hard to spot sometimes. She turned her head to look over at the outline of Andrew's features, knowing that she was facing the side of his cheek that had a pattern of freckles resembling those identifiable constellations.

"It's funny," she had whispered. "How much beauty you can see now that everything else has gone dark."

"Mhm," he agreed silently, looking over at her. Smiling at himself, he whispered, "gonna make that into a metaphor?"

"Hey, I'm just saying," she had replied, nudging him in the side with her elbow as they both looked up at the glowing sky again. "It's gorgeous."

"Shhh, shhh, shhh," he said quickly, his hand going over her mouth. They could both hear it now. The walker was wandering somewhere nearby, and if it had heard them, the noise would be an attraction. The darkness surrounding them wasn't the ideal place to have one wander too close, or worse, a herd. Even a small group could take them out easily with the lack of visibility they were facing, and they knew it.

Both laid in silence for minutes, Andrew's hand clasped over her mouth. They looked out into space together, hoping it was just one. Hoping it would go away.

Eventually, the walker's noises began to fade. Andrew's hand slowly lowered from Emma's mouth, and she could hear him exhale as if he had been holding his breath for too long.

"I'll take the first watch," he said, scooting himself out of the tarp and sitting on top of it. Emma was tucked snuggly into the rough material, and she looked up at him expectantly for some sort of burrito joke concerning the shape she had wrapped herself in. Anything. But instead of trying to lighten the mood, Andrew kept staring out into the darkness of the forest, his face silhouetted from the brightness of the moon.

Emma had stared at him for a long time before finally giving in to the exhaustion she felt.

She couldn't remember falling asleep. She could only remember the dreams that filled her mind for the first time in weeks.

_Andrew. Walkers, walkers, walkers. Blood everywhere. _

_His eyes glazing over, reaching for her. Hungry. The last bullet straight to his head. _

_Running, running, running._

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><p>It had all been a dream. Emma knew that.<p>

And he was really here. Emma knew that too, now.

She looked at him as they continued to pack up what little they had.

"I think I saw a creek or river or something nearby yesterday," she said. "I'm out of water, and it hasn't been raining often enough to collect. I thought we could go down there today."

Andrew nodded, continuing to stuff the string of cans and bottles into his backpack without a word.

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><p><strong>AN: Please remember to review! **


	4. Baths

They walked down the road together, looking at each side of the highway every once in a while for the river.

"Found it," Andrew said, glancing down the ravine. Emma walked over and looked down with him. It was steep, but if they crawled down, it was possible. And necessary. Her head was beginning to ache from a lack of water, and she figured Andrew might be even worse. Climbing over the guardrail on the side of the road, Emma began to make her way down.

"You comin'?" she asked, not bothering to look up at him as she grabbed onto a root and tested its sturdiness.

"Yeah," Andrew replied with a tone of uncertainty. "I've just never been the best rock climber."

Emma paused and looked up at him. For being someone that had just bashed a few walkers' heads open with nothing but a hatchet, he sure looked nervous about what she was doing.

"Well," Emma said, continuing to go down the ravine, "good thing this is just mud and roots, mostly."

Andrew leaned on the guardrail with a lack of amusement.

Emma sighed. "If you want, I can talk you through it. Just lemme get down first."

Andrew had changed a lot since she had last seen him. True, that had been years before the outbreak, but Emma knew most of the changes in his character were due to the past year. She couldn't blame him. Losing your family was tough, and she had certainly gone through the same thing. Most people that were still alive in this world had.

It was an odd dynamic, trying to be lighthearted while he stayed serious for the most part. When they had first met, it had been the exact opposite. He was always the jokester, and she was the bookworm, refusing to find humor in anything. He had changed that about her as they grew up together, but now…

Emma was the one trying to cheer him up. Trying to get him to smile. Trying to get some sort of a reaction out of him. He used to always be the one to make things better, and now she was trying to do that for him.

She hated feeling like she had to.

Emma wished she could get a glimpse of the old Andy. The one she had known so well. The one she recognized.

The ravine was much steeper than Emma anticipated, and she had to improvise a few times to keep steady, but she eventually got down to the rocks that surrounded the riverbank.

"Okay," she said, taking that last step onto level ground. "Now you."

Andrew hesitantly lifted his legs above the guardrail as Emma had, grabbing onto the trunk of a tree as he began to step down. The incline was so steep, so he had to crawl backwards as Emma had, hesitantly grabbing onto roots and attempting to mimic what she had done.

"Easy now," Emma encouraged as he grabbed onto a root that wasn't secure. "Test where you're stepping before committing to the next thing… that's it. Just keeping going like that. You're doing great."

"Couldn't we have found a less steep spot to get down here?" Andrew asked, his pace speeding up as he got used to the climb down.

"What's the fun in that?" Emma retorted, trying to suppress a giggle as he clumsily slipped against a rock.

Eventually Andrew took his last step down and turned to face her.

"Well," he said proudly. "That wasn't so hard. Honestly Em, I don't know what you were so nervous about."

Emma rolled her eyes and walked toward the river's edge. The gushing water was a welcome sight. Rainwater was preferable, but at least it wasn't still, lake water. This would have to do. Finding a spot where it splashed off of a rock, Emma took out her bumper-stickered water bottle and held it under to catch the cold liquid.

"Nice stickers," Andrew commented, noting the Oregon sticker with a heart over it and another that said "Girl Scouts Rock!"

"It's a little ridiculous," Emma admitted with a weak smile. "I mean," she lazily traced the Oregon lines on the sticker with her thumb. "Can we even consider state lines a legitimate thing anymore?"

Andrew shrugged as Emma began to drink from the bottle, her chapped lips and dry throat welcoming the sensation.

"It's not like it's been 100 years since the outbreak or something," he said. "We still have signs telling us where we are."

They had just passed a mile marker off of the highway, telling them how far they were from the coast. There was a long ways left to go on foot. What would have taken them only a few hours with a car in normal circumstances could take them much longer between scavenging for food, hiding from walkers, and other dangers. They had talked about hoping to find a vehicle, but few people had thought to head for the coast during the evacuations. Most that did sat dead in their vehicles now, their motors running until the fuel ran out on its own.

Emma attempted to gulp down as much water as she could until she almost felt sick from it. Refilling her water bottle again from the stream, she offered some to him.

"Thanks," he said, gratefully taking a sip. She looked at him when he didn't continue to drink as much as he could.

"You have to have more than that," she told him. "We don't know the next time we can get water."

"If we follow this river, it might just lead to the ocean or whatever," he argued. "That's how it works, right? I mean, I know I was pre-med and whatever, and it was mostly Chemistry, but I picked up on _some_ things from earth science classes too."

Emma stared straight at him with her arms crossed and eyebrows raised.

"Fine, fine," he said, holding one of his hands up in defense and continuing to drink.

Emma turned back to the narrow river, looking for a good location to wash off. Scanning the bank, she spotted a section blocked off with larger rocks that looked a little deeper. Even better, it didn't seem to flow very quickly downstream. She walked over and sat down at the edge.

After instinctively checking around her to make sure no walkers would interrupt, Emma delicately began to untie her shoes. It was almost meditative, gently removing a piece of her clothing she hadn't taken off in weeks.

"Wait, what are you doing?" Andrew asked, walking toward her.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" Emma retorted, her layers of jackets coming off and falling next to her shoes and socks. "I'm going to wash off. You should too. You look disgusting."

"Oh, real smart," Andrew said, his voice lowering to a whisper as he thought of the possibility of walkers arriving. "And what exactly are you going to do when a biter shows up? Swim down the current?"

Emma was barely listening to him as she removed her layers of tank tops in one motion, leaving only her sports bra on. She looked at him, his expression filled with concern and anxiety as she removed the bandana covering her knee and unbuttoned her jeans, letting them fall to her ankles.

"That's what you're here for. To protect me from the bogeyman."

Emma turned and walked into the water, the cold invigorating her senses. The goose bumps on her legs were already forming as she stepped deeper into the river, careful to avoid snagging her feet on any broken glass or wandering crawdads.

She remembered catching the little water-dwelling creatures as a child. Her uncle used to take her to the river all the time, and whenever she grabbed one, he would pretend that the creature was some dangerous scorpion she had tamed in the palm of her hand.

All the memories she had of the past, of her childhood, of her teenage years with Andrew, all of them seemed to be a part of another lifetime. It felt so odd to even recall any of it.

The water reached her knees, and the cut she had gotten from her fall yesterday felt soothed against the temperature. She continued to go deeper into the water, and the goose bumps were covering her whole body now. Looking back, she noted that Andrew had not moved from his spot.

"You should wash off too when I'm done," she said. "One of us should keep watch, take turns. Like sleeping."

"This is _not _like sleeping," Andrew muttered, his voice muffled by the water bottle he continued to drink from. "This isn't necessary, ya know," he continued, closing up the bottle and crossing his arms against his chest. "You're just taking a risk now because you think you have a body guard."

"I would kill for some soap right now," Emma responded as if she hadn't heard what he said. The water was above her waist now, and she sunk down the rest of her body into the chill, her body shivering against the temperature change. Scrubbing on her skin, she slowly rubbed the dried mud and blood off of her arms and legs, feeling some semblance of relief and relaxation for the first time in months. For some reason, Andrew's irritation didn't bother her. All she could focus on was the dirt leaving her skin, washing away into the water.

"Hurry up," Andrew said, glancing around nervously at anything that made noise around them. He could protect her if a walker came from the side of the river he was on, but if one came from the other side, or worse, more than a manageable group…

Emma knew of his anxieties, but she didn't seem to want to take notice as she let down her hair for the first time that day, laying her head back into the water as the gentle current flowed through the frizz. She could feel her hair slowly smoothing back into the curls they had once been. Emma attempted to run her fingers through it, but the tangles were too much to handle. Maybe someday she would take the time to get it back to the way it was.

Someday. When scrubbing dirt off of her skin in a river felt like another lifetime ago.

After feeling like she had scrubbed herself down as best she could without soap, Emma stood back up in the river, never having gotten deeper than where she could stand.

Her sports bra and underwear were soaked, and she was shaking from the chill, but she knew the heat from the sun would dry her off once they climbed back up to the highway.

"You wanna take a turn?" she asked him as he continued to look around nervously for any sign of walkers, avoiding a direct glance at her.

Emma grabbed her jeans—she had thought about washing them too, but they would take forever to dry and it was all she had—and put them on. Her hair was dripping wet as she looked at him expectantly. He was still not looking at her.

"Well," he said. "I guess since you already put us at risk, what the hell have I got to lose?" Andrew finally gazed at her, his thin, dark eyes glaring into Emma's large, bright blues.

He handed her back the water bottle and kicked off his tennis shoes, not bothering to untie them. Andrew walked over to the edge of the water and took off his socks, jeans, and shirt quickly, not even looking at Emma with any hint of self-consciousness. His ribs dominated his stomach, and Emma sucked in her breath at the sight of it. He had always been skinny, but the sight of how small he had gotten worried her. She made a note to make them eat as soon as possible.

He kept going, his boxers hanging loosely on his hips, never stopping as he walked quickly and confidently into the water until the temperature hit him.

"Fuckfuckfuckfuck," he said, trying to keep his voice down as his teeth chattered. "Why didn't you tell me it was this fucking cold?"

Emma busted up laughing as she sat down on the riverbank, putting her socks back onto her feet. "I thought it would be obvious," she replied, looking at his facial expression that hadn't shown such extremities since they had found each other. "And I think that's the first time I've heard you swear that much."

"I'm not one for R-rated expletives," he replied, beginning to rub the grime off of his own skin. "Having a six-year-old sister, it—" he stopped suddenly, realizing what he had just said. Emma stayed silent as he paused, closed his eyes, and shook his head, completely submerging his head underwater for a few moments in thought.

Emma sighed. They had both lost so much. Losing them must have been torment, especially if he felt responsible for their deaths. Emma knew she felt a weight of guilt from the loss of her sister worse than anything. Losing your baby sister and brother in the same day when you were supposed to be protecting them… she wished she couldn't imagine, but she could all too well. She had seen it dozens of times in the past year. Siblings, parents, children, grandparents, friends, lovers. She had seen so many losses. So much pain. She could see it on his face at every moment.

Coming back up from the water, Andrew looked up at where Emma was standing. He gazed at her with a silent intensity, and she attempted to suppress a blush. Her wet sports bra clung to her body, and she knew he could see the full outline of her breasts. She didn't try to cover herself. She didn't try to hide from him.

They both stared at each other, their wet hair silently dripping onto their shoulders, the sun beaming down between the leaves of the trees that grew around the bank.

Emma felt as if they were the only ones left in the world.

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><p><strong>AN: Please review!**


	5. Chili

**A/N: This is the shortest chapter yet, but I haven't put anything out in a while and thought I might as well. Once my Winter break starts, this story will be updated a lot more frequently. Thanks for reading, and please remember to review!**

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><p>Snapping out of the moment, Emma walked upstream to get more water. She filled it to the brim and stuck it in her backpack again, hoping it would rain soon so they wouldn't have to risk any more infected river water.<p>

Taking the hair tie that was wrapped around her wrist, Emma pulled her long hair back up into the tightest bun possible, the still tangled hair struggling to be controlled. Emma often felt like chopping it off with her knife, but the curls at the ends reminded her too much of her past. She wasn't ready to let it go just yet.

Emma watched as Andrew got out of the river, his teeth chattering as he grabbed his jeans and shirt and pulled them back on.

They tied their shoes together silently.

"I've still got that can of chili in my backpack," Emma offered, glancing over at him. "I thought we could try to maybe even heat it up if you want."

Andrew breathed through his nose in a halfhearted laugh. "The life of luxury," he remarked.

* * *

><p>Soon they had a small fire going near the river, taking turns sipping from the water bottle. Emma took her knife and punctured the top of the can, carefully carving around it to prevent wasting any or hurting herself.<p>

"How many cans of beans do you think you've eaten since the shit hit the fan?" Andrew asked. To Emma's amusement, the cold water from the river seemed to have awakened a swearing habit in Andrew.

"More than I ever planned to eat in my life," Emma replied, placing the can near the coals for a few moments before turning it over with her foot. Even making it a little warmer would help her swallow it down. "I never liked beans. I mean, if they were in something else, sure, but not just straight from the can. And chili? Guh." She made a face. "I hate this shit."

Andrew smiled at her as she continued to carefully rotate it around. Emma took one of her tank tops and grabbed the can, placing it between them.

"After you, then," he said, noting how she was wrinkling her nose at the smell. Even in the midst of starvation, Emma couldn't help but be revolted by the smell of chili beans.

Grabbing the can again with her shirt wrapped around it, Emma poured some of it down her mouth, careful to not spill any. She handed it to him as she gulped, the barely warmed liquid making her stomach gurgle from all the water she had just had. Andrew did the same, taking a few extra slurps from the can before handing it back. They did this back and forth, silently, a system in place without having to say so. Slurp, gulp, and pass. A peace pipe in the form of an expired, generic can of chili.

As Andrew was finishing off the last of it, Emma heard a rustling coming from a bush across the river. Turning around, she saw six walkers heading straight for them. They must have smelled the smoke, or the chili, or them, or all of the above.

Emma's mind raced. She knew they had to move. Fast. Could walkers swim? Walk through this water? She didn't want to stick around to find out.

Grabbing her jackets and tank tops and water bottle, Emma stuffed them quickly into her backpack and whispered "run," to Andrew, as if the volume made a difference anymore.

He was already on the move.

Emma looked up at where they had climbed down, her eyes desperately searching for a spot where they could get up quickly. Finally she rested her gaze at a spot with multiple boulders and roots close together.

"Come on! She shouted, sprinting to the spot without bothering to look back. The walkers would soon be out of the water now. The splashing had subsided.

Andrew followed her close behind.

"Go, go, go," he urged as they reached the incline, pushing up at Emma's backpack.

"Climb beside me," Emma commanded quickly, her voice quavering with anxiety as he remained behind her. The sounds of the biters were getting close, but she didn't look. She wouldn't dare.

"Come on, come on, come on!" she shouted, finally looking down at where Andrew was. He had barely gotten off the ground. The walkers were close, and he needed to get up higher. Soon.

Emma hoisted herself up to the boulder that rested just out of reach. Lying flat on her stomach with her arms reaching out, Emma watched in horror as Andrew struggled with a walker that had gotten to him, trying to push away its hungry mouth.

"Andrew!" Emma screamed, grabbing the knife at her belt as Andrew groaned from the strain of fighting the walker with his bare hands.

"Lift up a free hand!" Emma ordered, lowering down the knife.

Andrew kicked the walker away to allow just enough time for his arm to go up and grip onto the handle of the knife. Turning it on the walker, Andrew swiftly stabbed into its rotting head. Without even taking the knife out of his hand, Andrew pushed himself up onto the boulder Emma was on.

Emma and Andrew stood beside each other on the boulder, their backs to the ravine as the remaining walkers reached the incline. The rotting hands grasped for the two desperately, but the rock was just out of reach.

Emma looked down at the walkers, scanning their faces. Despite being miles away from where she last saw her family, she had gotten into the habit of looking for recognizable features. Besides surviving, Emma's most desperate wish was to lay her family's bodies to rest. She knew it was useless to check for her sister, mother, or even father's facial features in the corpses that gnashed their teeth from underneath them, but she couldn't help to make sure. She wished to be sure of their fates more desperately than anything.

After lacking any recognition, Emma leaned her head back, closed her eyes, and breathed out slowly. Her heart was still racing.

It was then that Emma felt Andrew's hand brush up against hers. His whole body was shaking. Without a moment's hesitation, they both simultaneously gripped onto each other's hands, their fingers easily intertwining with one another.

Both looked down at the walkers again. The dead bodies reached up to their feet, unable to get to them or be smart enough to climb up with the roots.

"Stupid fuckers," Emma muttered, feeling Andrew's hand giving hers a squeeze.

"Come on," Andrew said. "Let's get out of here."

Emma nodded, and they both continued to climb up the ravine, side by side.

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><p><strong>AN: Please review! Thank you!**


	6. Watchtower

**A/N: I'm pretty sure this is my longest chapter yet. **

**The watchtower is based on a real place in Tillamook, Oregon. **

**Thanks for reading! **

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><p>They had been walking for miles. The sun beat down against their backs as they continued up the mountain, knowing that the ocean would get closer with each step.<p>

Emma didn't really have a plan once they got there. She assumed that the natural water border would make it easier to live amongst walkers, and access to a boat couldn't hurt either.

Maybe the Coast Guard had set up a system. Maybe more people survived than she thought. Maybe it was still possible. Emma liked to hope that some normality could still exist in this world, no matter how unlikely it seemed.

She also wanted to know the fate of her grandparents. Emma assumed the worst, but she had to be sure. If anything, they had a boat she knew how to run and an immense stock of well-hidden, canned food.

Emma ran through all the vague plans she had in her head. All her hopes for the future kept one foot in front of the other. It was all she could do.

Andrew looked over at Emma. She smiled at him as they continued on together.

Having a friend by her side was encouraging, but Emma couldn't help but be fearful of the day they would be separated or killed. She didn't want to think about the possibility of losing someone in her life again. She couldn't imagine the pain it would cause her.

It scared her every moment she heard a rustling in the forest, or the growl of a walker, or anything that could change their life in a moment if they slipped up or faced a situation that was too big for them to handle.

Luckily, besides the occasional lone walker, it had been fairly quiet the past few days. That could either mean there were fewer walkers up in the mountain, or that they had all grouped up into a few large herds. Emma hoped and prayed that it was the first option. She hoped for it with everything that she had.

"I would kill for a car right now," Andrew declared, his feet dragging against the hot, paved road.

"Most of 'em up here have been dead for months now," Emma replied, kicking a stray rock absentmindedly.

"My feet are killing me."

Emma glanced down at his shoes. They looked so worn down.

"Next walker we're taking down, we're taking its shoes off," Emma declared. "Yours are on its last days."

"They're not the only ones," Andrew muttered glumly. Realizing what he just said, he looked up at Emma quickly with an apologetic expression.

"Shit, sorry," he said. "That wasn't—I'm not—we—"

Emma looked at him quietly, trying to not to react to his negativity.

Andrew paused and took a breath.

"We're _not _going to die," he finally insisted.

"Mhm," Emma responded, not bothering to say a word to him.

They walked in silence again for a few moments, both trying to not think about all the possible ways their deaths could occur. Living in this world for over a year now, they both had witnessed multiple possibilities.

"I think we have a shot," Andrew finally stated, looking over at Emma cautiously. "Honestly, Em. I do. I just say shit like that sometimes. You know."

"Yeah," Emma retorted, looking at him from a sideways glance. "I do." With that, she continued up the incline, making sure to remain two steps ahead at all times to avoid looking at his face.

* * *

><p>Turning the bend on the road, Emma spotted a sign up ahead.<p>

"Look!" she blurted out, pointing to it. "There's the forestry center!"

Emma began to run up to it, then quickly paused to look behind her. Andrew was jogging lightly to catch up.

"What's so exciting about a forestry center?" Andrew asked, his feet going back and forth to relieve pressure off of them.

"It has a watchtower," Emma replied with a grin. Grabbing his hand, she led him past the gates and into the parking lot. "Come on!"

They walked underneath the tower, its five-storied height looming over them.

"Think anyone's in there?" Andrew asked quietly, his hand still holding Emma's.

Emma shrugged. "Only one way to find out."

Slowly they crept up the winding staircase, looking for any possible signs of life.

Finally they got to the final part of the staircase where the ladder began.

Emma silently pointed to herself and Andrew shook his head, pointing to himself with a stern expression.

Emma wanted to argue, but this wasn't the time. She nodded slowly as he began to make the short climb up the ladder to the watchtower's lookout.

With adrenaline pounding through her veins, Emma slowly reached for her gun as a precaution. The single bullet resting in it felt like a final and desperate piece of hope resting in her palm. It was the only thing they had left. The rifle she had been so excited about had been abandoned during a walker encounter.

That one bullet was all they had left.

Andrew peeked up into the window of the room—most of the top portion of the wall was made of glass—and scanned what he could see.

"Dead body," Andrew hissed down at Emma, his eyes not leaving the spot he was watching.

"Dead or dead-dead?" Emma called back, attempting to keep her voice down.

"Only one way to find out," Andrew replied, grabbing the hatchet from his opened backpack and heading into the room.

"Andrew—!" Emma exclaimed, not bothering to keep her voice down any longer.

Emma breathed through her nose heavily and began muttering through the seconds.

"One alligator, two alligator, three alligator…"

Suddenly, Andrew's head popped out from the door again.

"He's dead-dead," he concluded. "Gunshot wound to the head. Last bullet he had."

"Okay," Emma replied, still thinking about the last bullet she had. "Good."

Andrew nodded and ducked back into the room, Emma following him up the ladder.

Once she got up there, Emma saw that Andrew was attempting to lift the decaying body from the floor.

"Little help here?" he asked, hoisting the dead forest ranger up from the arms.

"Yeah," Emma replied, grabbing its legs. Glancing down, she noticed the boots he was wearing. Hiking boots.

"Hey," she interrupted, not giving Andrew any help to lift the body. "Check out these shoes. Here," she continued, motioning for him to come over to her side. "Put your foot next to his. Compare the size."

"You're not serious," Andrew said. "This fucker's been rotting for forever, and you want me to take shoes off his _decomposed feet_?"

"Don't knock it 'til you've tried it," Emma retorted, displaying her own pair. "Got these off some genuine _decomposed feet_, and they haven't killed me yet," she mocked.

Sighing, Andrew placed his foot next to the man's. It looked pretty close, so Emma began to untie the shoes silently, Andrew standing above her.

"You're really somethin', you know that?" he said quietly as she forced the shoes off the man one at a time and handed them to Andrew.

"I'm just resourceful," Emma replied with an accompanied eye roll.

"Nah, you figured it out. How to live like this," he argued, sitting onto the cot that sat in the corner of the room and trying on the new pair. "All I do is complain 'bout some stupid shoes. Hell, I still haven't shot a single bullet since this shit went down. My hatchet has been the one thing I've survived off of."

Emma shrugged. "That's pretty impressive then. I've depended way too much on my gun. Soon all we'll have to depend on is blades."

Emma went over to the center of the room to look at the large map under a glass display. Even though the room was completely functional as a watchtower, it had mainly served as a tourist attraction to campers and the beach bound. The map Emma was looking at showed all the surrounding forest and the coastline. Emma traced their assumed route with her finger, a silent prayer passing through her mind.

As if she prayed to anyone anymore.

"Oh my god," Andrew remarked, finishing off the last knot of the shoelaces. "I think these actually fit me."

He got up and walked back and forth across the room, testing them out like a kid in a shoe store.

Looking up from the shoes to Emma, he grinned. "Yup. Think these'll work."

"We'll take 'em!" Emma proclaimed to the corpse jokingly, her index finger hoisted in the air haughtily. "I don't care what the cost! We'll take the lot, in fact! How much for this fine home?" Emma paused for a few moments; the corpse sitting slouched over on the wall.

"Free, you say?" Emma replied to the silence, her hand resting on her chest in shock. "Why then, I believe it is time for you to leave, sir. We'll be needing it now, I'm afraid."

Andrew chuckled at her and began to lift up the arms again, Emma taking the legs. Together they took the corpse and hoisted him over the edge, the body landing on the ground five stories below with a thud.

The sun was beginning to set, and Emma was grateful they had found a place she considered safe for the first time in days.

"I'll go set up the alarms," Andrew said, heading toward the door and beginning to go down the ladder again.

"Okay," Emma replied, her eyes examining the map again.

They were close to the coast. Maybe a few more days considering all of the stops and roadblocks they had to face. Getting anywhere was slow going, especially without a car, and Emma hoped they would find one soon that would run.

Going over to a corner of the room, Emma placed her hand on a radio on a table. Flipping the switch on, she was surprised to find it worked.

"Damn emergency batteries," she muttered to herself. "Solving everything."

Adjusting the volume and frequency, Emma picked up a signal.

"_The United States Coast Guard has issued the following message. This is a civil emergency. Please do not venture outside. Avoid anyone infected at all costs. Remain calm. Help is on the way_."

Emma made a face and flipped the switch off. Same bullshit she heard months ago, different part of the government. The same message was being broadcast everywhere, on a loop, until the end of time, Emma figured. Or until whatever controlled it managed to shut down completely.

She heard Andrew come back up the ladder and turned to face him. He smiled at her gently, the gleefulness of having a safe place to rest evident on his face.

"Well," he said, "I'm gonna get some sleep. Care to join me?" Andrew dropped his backpack on the floor and plopped onto the cot with ease, giving her plenty of room to sleep beside him.

Emma smiled and leaned back onto the cot, facing him.

"Goodnight then," she said, closing her eyes peacefully for the first time in a long time.

"Goodnight," he said, his gentle voice deepening into a murmur.

Emma and Andrew rested like that together in silence for a few moments.

"Hey, Em?" Andrew asked, looking across at her.

"Mm?" she replied, not bothering to open her eyes. Her mind was already drifting off to sleep.

"I… I'm glad you're here with me," he admitted, his hand gently resting on the side of her face. "Really glad."

Emma opened her eyes as she felt Andrew adjust next to her, his face tentatively moving toward her own.

"Wha.. what are you doing?" Emma whispered, the words barely able to escape her mouth.

"I… I was trying to kiss you," he admitted, his dark eyes focusing on her mouth as if in a trance, avoiding looking straight at her.

"Neither of us have brushed our teeth in who knows how long," Emma jokingly replied in an attempt to hide her nerves. Her head hesitantly moving away from his delicate touch despite wanting desperately to do the opposite.

Emma's mind was going in a million directions, and her only instinct was to resist. To hide away from what was happening. To make it into a joke.

"Well, then I bet we won't notice," Andrew whispered to her, taking his hand and intertwining their fingers together. His hand felt rough and warm against hers, and their long, interlaced fingers reminded Emma of a lifetime ago.

They used to play piano together, and their fingers would easily glide over the keys side by side. Others always commented on how they had similar hands. Musician hands. It was most evident when they were playing together, but rarely did their hands actually touch or hold onto one another.

Neither had played in well over a year. Yet with their hands connected now, the similarity between them was more evident than ever.

"Andy," Emma said with a quavering voice, causing him to look up into her eyes. Emma's cheeks were turning a light pink, and she could feel her legs begin to shake from nerves. They hadn't been this intimate with one another before. Not in a long time.

"What?" Andrew asked, his voice deepening. "I thought…"

"What?" Emma asked back.

"I just," his thumb brushed up against her knuckles, their hands still holding. "I thought you wanted to."

"I…" Emma looked at his hesitant expression. She still could barely get her words out. Frowning, she broke the moment by letting go of his hand and turning over on the cot. She wouldn't allow him to look into the eyes that were beginning to tear up.

"Just don't," she muttered in a low breath, resting her hand against the edge of the cot and closing her eyes again.

"Okay..." Andrew said, the hurt and confusion in his voice more apparent than Emma liked to admit. "Just—" he sighed. "Know that it's okay. Really. I'm okay with whatever you want."

Andrew hesitantly touched Emma's arm, and she instinctively pulled away.

"Sorry! Sorry," he apologized quickly. "I just—I'm just telling you that if you don't want this to be more than what it is, and has been, that's fine. I… I get it. I really do. I'll respect that."

Emma opened her eyes and stared out the window. The moments of silence between them were deafening.

"Forget it happened," he said quickly with embarrassment. "That was really stupid of me. I just was looking at you, and I thought—well—," he paused, and Emma could tell he was stopping himself from saying more. "Sorry."

Emma sat up in the cot, holding on the wooden edge with hunched shoulders. Putting her face in her hands, she tried to suppress a sniffle and couldn't. Her eyes were definitely tearing up. She was trying and failing to control it. All her emotions were coming crashing down on her, and suppressing them as much as she could for the past year had taken its toll on her.

"You okay?" Andrew asked.

"Yeah," Emma brokenly replied, rubbing the dampness that had formed around her eyes and sniffling one last time. "I'm okay."

"Wanna talk about it at all?" he offered quietly.

Emma let out a halfhearted laugh and looked back at him. His face was attempting to stay neutral, but she knew he was feeling many of the emotions she was. Maybe more.

"I'm fine," she insisted. "It's just," she sighed. "You know."

Andrew lifted himself up from the cot, his elbow holding him up.

"No," he responded gently. "I don't. I don't… know what you're thinking, Em. You gotta tell me if you want me to know."

Emma turned to Andrew, her eyes searching his face for a hint of what she _should _say to him.

"You could die tomorrow," she stated simply. "I could die tomorrow."

Andrew was silent before speaking, attempting to choose his words carefully.

"We're _not_ going to die tomorrow," he finally said. "I'm going to make sure of that. Hell, if that means staying up here all day tomorrow to make that happen, so be it." Emma could see his attempt at a smirk, trying to lighten the mood ever so slightly.

Emma stood up and walked over to the other side of the room, looking out at the sun setting underneath the trees.

"Our families our dead. Half the world might be dead. If none of it had happened…" she turned to look at him and sighed. "We wouldn't even be talking right now."

"But… but we found each other," Andrew argued. "That's gotta be a one in a million chance, Em. Don't…" he paused, searching for the right words. "Don't you think that means something?"

Emma scoffed. "I don't know what it means." She leaned against the wall and looked down at the radio, its message replaying over and over in her head.

_Help is on the way_.

But help wasn't on the way. Emma knew that. No one would ever be there to help either of them. They were all the other had, and the fact loomed over their heads every new day they spent together.

"We had so many chances. To be together," Emma sighed. "All those years, there were so many times we could have been."

Andrew sat up on the cot, leaning forward and looking at her intently.

"We never were together though," Emma continued. She looked straight into Andrew's eyes, her lip quavering as she tried to suppress emotion in what she was saying. "You were my best friend, Andy. I… I loved you."

Andrew stood up, slowly walking toward where Emma was.

"But the world is different now," Emma kept going; cautiously holding a hand out so Andrew would stop. He stood there in front of her, waiting for what she had to say. "I'm different now. Hell, I was different before all this happened. We haven't talked in four fucking years. I don't _know_ you anymore. I really don't. And you sure as hell don't know me or what I want."

"What the hell do you want, Em?" Andrew asked.

"I want…" Emma stopped, hesitant to declare one extreme or the other.

_I want you to love me. I want to live in a world with no walkers. I want to live in a world with just you and me. I want it all. _

_I want you to leave. I want to never see your face again. I want none of this to have ever happened. I want to not know if you're dead or alive and to not care._

"I don't know. I just need… some time, okay? To figure it out."

Andrew looked at her silently for a few moments, trying to read her face. Trying to understand what she was thinking.

"Okay," he responded.

Andrew turned and walked to the door of the room.

"Where are you going?" Emma asked, afraid of the worst. Afraid of him leaving.

"Just down the stairs a bit," Andrew replied, turning to face her. He grabbed his hatchet on his way out before opening the door. "I'll stay above the noise makers."

Emma nodded numbly as he made the climb down.

Lying back on the cot, Emma breathed out and tried to control her emotions, only to feel the tears begin to freely roll down her face. Everything from the past year came back to her with new intensity. The first news alert. The first time she saw a walker. The first time she saw what they were capable of. The evacuation. The horror and sorrow and confusion on everyone's faces. All of the close calls. Killing a walker for the first time. Losing her family. Losing everyone. Being so unsure of their fates. Being alone. Being afraid. Being attacked. Killing a living person. Running, never stopping. Finding Andy. The fear of losing him too. So much fear. So much uncertainty.

Choosing to be with Andrew in the first place was a huge risk. They could die at any moment, and she knew that. Choosing to be romantic with him would put them at an even bigger risk. Emma gulped through her tears, thinking up every scenario of losing him. Trying to control her thoughts only for them to become more vivid and horrid. After what felt like hours, but was likely only minutes, of crying, Emma's panicked sobs got ahead of her. She placed her hand on her chest, trying to find a steady rhythm in her breath again.

Shaking her head and wiping her tears away, Emma spotted the sun's rays disappear underneath the horizon of the trees. It was beautiful. She couldn't help but remember nights at her grandparents' beach house, watching the vibrant colors disappear under the waves.

Maybe someday she would be able to show Andrew that view. Maybe her grandparents were still there. Maybe they were alive.

Maybe.

Emma didn't want to think about it until she was there, but she couldn't help but stay hopeful. Even if it was only a little bit. Even if it was absurd.

Walking over to the door, Emma hesitantly opened it and glanced down at where Andrew sat. His back was turned to her, and she could see his hatchet lying faithfully across his lap.

"Andy?" she asked, her voice cracking from her earlier crying.

He looked up at her immediately, concern on his face.

"Can you come back up? It's getting dark," Emma asked, her voice returning to normal after getting used to speaking.

"Yeah," he replied instantly. "Yeah."

Climbing up the ladder one final time for the night, Andrew and Emma stood facing each other at the doorway.

"You've been crying," he told her. It wasn't a question.

"Sorry," she responded quickly, rubbing her eyes in an attempt to lessen how obvious it was.

"No," Andrew insisted gently. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay," she told him. "Not your fault. I got caught up in… a lot of different things."

He nodded.

"Do you want to come to bed with me?" Emma offered.

"You sure?" Andrew asked. "I can sleep on the floor. It's no problem."

"No, it's okay," Emma insisted this time. "There's room."

Together they crawled onto the cot, going back into the original position they were in.

"Goodnight," Emma repeated for the second time, her eyes closing once again.

"'night," Andrew said back, his head facing up at the ceiling instead of her this time.

"Hey, Andrew?" Emma asked, her eyes opening suddenly to look at the outline of his face in the darkness.

"Hmm?" he murmured, not looking at her.

"Remember when we would sit on the bus together?" she asked.

Andrew let out a chuckle. "How can I forget that? We sat next to each other almost every day for two years."

"I mean this one specific time," Emma responded, her eyes shyly wandering to his lips. "You had put your jacket over our heads, and…" she laughed to herself, thinking of how ridiculous it had been. "I think you tried to kiss me, but… you kissed my ear instead."

Andrew smiled and glanced over at her. "Yeah… yeah," he admitted. "That might have happened."

"Were you trying to kiss me? Then, I mean?" Emma asked.

"My intentions," Andrew muttered, his hand going over his eyes in embarrassment. "The young romantic in me thought it might be cute, but my aim was… a little off."

He looked at Emma from under his hand and they smirked to one another. Emma began to giggle, and soon they were both laughing, together, the awkwardness between them gone.

"That has got to be our most failed attempt at sharing a romantic moment," Emma decided, shaking her head.

"It was pretty bad," Andrew agreed.

They smiled each other, and Emma was tempted to reach out her hand to grab his again, but something stopped her. The fear was still there.

"'night, Andrew," she whispered, turning to the other side to the rest of the room.

"Goodnight, Em," he whispered back, and Emma could feel him turn over so their backs faced each other.

Emma thought she would never be able to fall asleep, but the exhaustion from the day and the comfort of being in a safe haven soon had her mind drifting off to a world without fear.

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><p><strong>AN: Please review!**


	7. Children

Emma awoke to the feeling of Andrew shifting beside her, his body rising from the cot they shared every night now. The duo had been there for three days, scavenging the surrounding area for food as best they could and savoring the sanctuary they had found for themselves. Despite the safety of their location, Emma knew it would soon be time to move on. There were few houses to explore nearby, and most of the surrounding cars had been picked through already.

"Em," Andrew softly called, knowing that Emma's breathing and movements indicated that she had woken up along with him. "We need to—"

"No."

It wasn't a question. It wasn't a plea. It was a statement.

"But—" Andrew urged, his head turning in frustration.

"No," Emma repeated, her voice firm. "Andy, we can't… _I_ can't."

"It's our only option," Andrew argued, moving back to the cot and bending his knees so that Emma's lowered gaze was forced to look at him. "The keys will still be there, and gas, and maybe even—"

"No!" Emma scowled, her expression awakening with frustration.

Andrew paused, looking deep into Emma's eyes, searching for a way to persuade her.

"Fine," he concluded, putting his hands on his knees and hoisting himself back up in a standing position. "I'll do it myself then."

"Andrew James Nguyen," Emma said, her maternal instincts emerging. "Don't you dare—"

"Em!" he declared back harshly. Andrew's hatchet was now in hand as he threw a backpack over his shoulder. "It's a good idea, it may be our only option, and I'm doing it whether you want me to or not." They glared at each other, each standing at opposite ends of the room.

"K, whatever," Emma sighed, grabbing the other backpack and her pistol from the floor. She began to put her knife into its sheath when she felt Andrew's hand touch her arm.

"Hey," he comforted. Emma attempted to not look him in the eye. "It's going to be okay."

Emma nodded, walking past him and out the door. They walked down the steps together silently, eyeing the red Subaru sitting silently in the far end of the parking lot.

As they approached the vehicle, Emma paused. The hunting knife rested heavily on her belt as she reached to grab it.

"You ready?" Andrew asked, turning to her. Both their weapons were held out in front of them.

"Yeah," Emma replied, her eyes focusing on the driver side of the vehicle. The dead woman's wispy hair was red, her decomposing head resting against the window. She didn't seem to be moving, but Emma knew it was still able to reawaken. Sometimes a lack of prey caused them to appear dead, but once provoked by noise, the body would come to life once again. Emma had learned this all too well in the past year.

"Okay," Andrew said, exhaling through his mouth and concentrating on the corpse. "We need a strategy for this first one. I say break the glass and stab before it can fight back."

"Sounds a good a plan as any," Emma agreed, looking down at his hatchet. "Would you like to do the honors?"

"My pleasure," Andrew said, stepping toward the car without warning and slamming the hatchet into the window. The glass broke instantly, and luckily the car alarm didn't go off along with it.

The walker sprung to life at the noise, its skull protruding from the original facial features. Emma quickly charged at its face, slamming her knife into the mouth with an upward thrust. The walker went limp under Emma as she pulled the knife away quickly, noticing a smaller shaped hand begin to grab for her wrist from the backseat.

"Shit," Emma muttered, shaking her head. The tiny arm was now outstretched, caught between the driver seat and the broken window. The glass cut against its arm, carving at the dead skin. Dark, thick blood slowly oozed out of its arm, showing Emma and Andrew just how long this family had been trapped in the car.

"I can do it," Andrew offered, reaching for the inside of the door to unlock the car.

"Wait!" Emma said, noticing the lanyard dangling from the keys. "If that battery is still working, the alarm's gonna go off. Maybe. I think," she paused, unsure. "Actually, I don't know exactly how car alarms work."

Andrew shrugged. "Better to be safe than sorry," he replied, moving over to break the backseat window. At least the sound of the glass shattering was better than an alarm sending every walker within miles to them.

The child's face had decayed as significantly as the adult in the driver seat, its cracked baby teeth visible as its lips and surrounding mouth were gone. It was the smallest walker Emma had ever seen, and she stood in shock at how small its arms were. The kid couldn't have been more than seven years old.

Seeing a young walker was rare. They were often eaten entirely when attacked, but if they got away with just a scratch or bite, they would turn just as quickly as any adult, if not sooner. The whole family must have been bit. The mother may have locked them into the car in one final attempt to prevent anyone else from getting hurt.

It had apparently worked. Once turned, these walkers didn't seem to know how to unbuckle their seatbelts or unlock the car, and they lacked the strength to break the glass. The family had been trapped in there for a long time.

Andrew hesitated, but looking at Emma, knew he really did have to be the one to do it. Taking his hatchet, he swiftly plunged it into the child's corpse, its head falling forward into its knees from the seat it was attached to.

Sighing, Emma wiped a tear that had escaped her eye. She had never seen a walker that small before, and when they had both seen it yesterday, Emma wanted nothing to do with it. It was so innocent, so young. It must have been so afraid. And to turn into one of _them_ instead of disappearing completely… Emma didn't want to think about it too much. She knew that they couldn't be human, but a part of her still wondered if they were even a little cognitively aware. The only thing that seemed to function was the brain, and didn't that make up who you were? Wasn't that all that mattered?

Their brains didn't work the same way though. Emma knew they didn't. Walkers couldn't understand, couldn't think. All they thought was hunger, and with each passing day they got less able to open doors, climb stairs, or even walk around things at times. No. They weren't human. Emma couldn't shake the guilt of killing the walker children though, even after a year of killing dozens upon dozens. It disturbed her too much. It's where she couldn't seem to cross the line.

All Emma could think about was the child that had sat behind its mother, afraid, as they both slowly died from the disease.

At least the worst part was over. Now all they had to do was remove the bodies.

Emma walked over to the driver seat again, and reaching around the corpse, removed the keys from the ignition.

She suddenly saw movement out of the corner of her eye, and turning her head to look at the backseat behind the passenger side, Emma staggered back in horror.

Andrew forcefully grabbed onto her arm with his free hand in response.

"Heyheyhey," he stammered, attempting to keep Emma steady. "What is it? Is it a walker?"

Emma didn't have to reply. They both heard it. From inside the car, they could hear moans. But the sounds didn't seem normal. They almost sounded like cries.

"What the _fuck _is that?" Andrew asked, his eyes widening. Emma couldn't see past the tears that were flooding her vision. Andrew let go of her gently, and Emma let herself fall backwards onto the asphalt, her mouth covered in horror at what she had just seen.

"Hand me the keys," Andrew commanded, his palm outstretched to Emma.

Emma handed him the lanyard and keys without a word, her mouth gaping in silent horror from the shock. She had never seen one. Not like that.

Andrew took the keys and went to the other side of the vehicle, unlocking the door. Emma heard the cries grow louder, but she didn't even care about the noise attracting other walkers. She just wanted it to stop. She wanted it to go away.

Then suddenly, the noise stopped. And it was all over. Emma shuddered through her sobs, trying to pull herself together again as Andrew walked back to the side of the car, kneeling down to face her.

"It's okay," he said.

"I—I'm sorry," Emma stammered. "I just—I told you, I couldn't even handle—"

"I know," Andrew interrupted. "It's gone now. It's all over."

Emma got up to match his kneeling position and threw her arms around him, her face burrowing into his neck as she breathed out, attempted to calm down as quickly as she could.

"I'm going to take the car seat out," Andrew said. "You can fix up the front seats for us."

Emma nodded and stood back up.

Together they worked on fixing the car. The bodies had decayed onto the seats, and removing them didn't remove all of them, so they took some blankets found in the back and covered up the mess as best they could. In an emergency kit, Emma found spare and incredibly stale granola bars. They split one between themselves, quietly eating on the hood of the vehicle as they let the now open doors air out some of the smell. The car still had half a tank left in it, and Emma was hopeful that it would start once she got enough courage to test it out.

Andrew had placed the car seat away from view so that Emma didn't have to see it again. She was grateful for that. There were parts of this world she would never get used to, and though she thought she had seen everything, she had been wrong.

Emma glanced at the driver seat from the front of the car, attempting to swallow down the scavenged food as best she could.

"I'm gonna try it out," she offered, heading to the front seat and sitting down on the blankets they had laid out.

Andrew joined her in the passenger seat, watching her hands intently as she placed the keys back in the ignition.

"Okay," Emma sighed, glancing over at Andrew. "If this doesn't work, we're just gonna keep walking. No harm, no foul."

Andrew nodded in reply, but they both knew that the car running would be a lifesaver. They could be at the coast before nightfall if it worked.

"Okay," Emma repeated, closing her eyes and turning the key.

The car sputtered and then sprang to life, the hum of the motor a welcome noise for the two of them.

Andrew laughed in relief, taking Emma's shoulder and shaking it in excitement. She couldn't help but grin along with him. This was going to save them. This was going to get them through.

"Now let's see if I can remember how to drive these things," Emma said jokingly, putting the car in drive and her foot on the gas. They jerked forward, but Emma soon got the feel of the pedal as they pulled out of the parking lot and onto the deserted highway again.

Neither of them could stop smiling. Going a constant 40 miles an hour was a welcome sensation compared to the rate they had been going before. Emma wanted to speed up once she got the feel, but the fear of wasting gas too quickly or worse, running over a walker, could cost them. It was better to play it safe.

"Hey," Andrew said, pressing some buttons on the stereo. "There's some CDs in here."

Soon they were listening to music, something Emma hadn't done since the world had gone to hell. The swells of the sounds and the melodies comforted her in a way that was almost as foreign to her as driving a car again, and she couldn't help but grin even more.

A Hellogoodbye CD came on the six-CD player, and Andrew's eyes brightened.

Emma glanced with amazement at the stereo, then shook her head and laughed at the chances of it happening. "That CD's, like, seven years old at least," she said.

"That woman must have been pretty young to have been listening to synthpop from 2006," Andrew muttered, skipping to the second song. Their song.

_I like, where we are,_

_When we drive, in your car._

_I like, where we are. Here._

The song's familiar instrumentals came on, and Emma giggled.

"Man, we used to listen to this all the time," she admitted.

Soon the chorus came on, and both were belting the song as best they could. Neither were singers, so they both talked their way through the lyrics, dancing to the music and creating awkward hand motions to go along with the words.

_Well you are the one, the one that lies close to me._

_Whispers, "Hello, I've missed you quite terribly."_

_I fell in love, in love with you suddenly,_

_Now there's no place else I could be but here in your arms._

Emma couldn't stop smiling. This was what their friendship was about. This ridiculous, no-cares-in-the-world feeling is what she had missed most about Andy. They always knew how to act silly and make each other laugh, and they finally had found it again in this moment, with the song they always listened to back in high school blaring through the speakers.

Suddenly, Emma's eyes widened at the sight in front of her, and she slammed on the brakes. Her breath hitched in her throat as she looked over at Andrew slowly, watching as his eyes registered what they had found at the top of the mountain.

There were dozens of them. Walkers of all shapes and sizes, wandering aimlessly in a cluster.

"Fuckfuckfuckfuck," Emma said, scrambling to go in reverse and back away. They had to get away before more spotted them. She could already see a few turning their heads toward the noise of the car's brakes.

The stereo was still going as she panicked herself into reverse.

_I like where you sleep,_

_When you sleep, next to me._

_I like where you sleep. Here._

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><p><strong>AN: ****Please review!**


	8. Run

**A/N: For those of you subscribed, I have changed the amount of walkers from "hundreds" to "dozens" because I realized while outlining this chapter that it would be impossible for the events to work. Thank you for reading, and please review!**

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><p>The walkers were everywhere. Some aimlessly continued to wander, but a few were beginning to notice the car that had just driven up to them. Their glazed eyes turned to different directions, attempting to detect where to go to get their next meal.<p>

Andrew grabbed his hatchet from under his feet, scanning the scene with widened eyes. Glancing up, he spotted something on the cliff to their left.

"Stopstopstopstop," he said, holding his free hand out in front of Emma. She was still trying to maneuver the car in a three-point turn to get them out of there, but the highway itself was narrow and the area surrounding it was blocked off. Her hands were shaking as she tried to make the turn as quickly and calmly as possible, but it was difficult.

"AndywegottaGO," Emma replied, pushing his hand away from her as she began to make the final turn.

"It's a little girl!" Andrew shouted back, suddenly opening the car door and sprinting toward the cliff's edge. The wall of rock loomed over the highway, and sure enough, Emma could spot a small girl and a man standing above level ground, trying to get out of the walkers' reach. There would soon be too many. The herd was beginning to head straight toward them, and Emma doubted their choice of sanctuary would keep them alive.

"Andy!" Emma shouted desperately, attracting more attention from the walkers. One got to her window and she quickly used her knife to finish it off, not giving it a second glance as the corpse crumbled to the ground against the car.

Andrew was still running in the direction of the group, his hatchet swinging wildly as walkers neared him. He finished off one, two, three, four until he finally arrived near the man and little girl.

_God_, Emma thought. _She can't be more than six years old. _

Emma's heart raced as Andrew neared the crowd that had gathered from underneath the strangers, fearing the worst was about to happen. Fearing that this would be it.

"Jump!" Andrew shouted up at them. His voice sounded desperate.

Emma could see the man had a gun in his hands, and he shot the walkers directly beneath them to give Andrew some time. The man quickly kneeled down and grab onto the girl's arms, pleading with her. She was crying. The man shook her and she nodded her head.

More walkers were coming to Emma. She killed another one and backed the car up, then swerved to hit some and knock them down. She could feel their bodies crushing under her wheels; the blood stains from the hits now impairing her view from the front window.

"Andy!" Emma shouted again, not caring if the walkers were being drawn to her because of it. The herd was splitting up between the two groups, and the more walkers that went toward her instead of him were welcome.

Emma looked over at where Andrew was. The girl was now in his arms, apparently from jumping down. He was holding onto her tightly with one arm, her arms and legs wrapped around him. Emma couldn't help but think this was how he used to hold his little sister. When Andrew turned around, he looked in horror at Emma in the car. Enough walkers had begun heading to her that they blocked off any hope of Andrew and the girl returning to it.

"Em!" Andrew shouted, holding his hatchet out and kicking at another walker before plunging his weapon of choice into its head.

"Go, go, go!" Emma screamed, sticking her head out of the car. "I'm gonna double back!" She wanted nothing more than to reach him, but the walkers made it impossible.

Andrew hesitated before running in the opposite direction, swinging at walkers as he went.

"Lucy!" the man still standing at the cliff yelled, jumping from where he stood and landing on the ground awkwardly. As walkers approached him, he began firing at them with his rifle, the noise sending echoes against the cliff. Emma could see that the fall had damaged his leg somehow as he tried to limp toward the direction of Andrew and the child.

The noises stopped as the man ran out of ammo, and abandoning his weapon, he continued to run as fast as he could with a limp toward them. Emma continued to kill the walkers coming at her, occasionally backing her vehicle away again to get an advantage.

She watched as the man fell from what was likely a broken ankle, and she heard the screams of pain before seeing what had happened. She didn't need to see. She knew. She had seen it countless times before.

"Daddy!" she heard Lucy scream, and Emma watched in horror as the girl fought Andrew's grip around her.

"No!" Andrew yelled as she kicked him again and again, finally catching her foot to his groin. His loosened grip was just enough for her to fall back down onto the asphalt. The girl began running toward her father, his screams continuing to echo against the trees and cliff.

"Stop!" Andrew begged. But it was too late. The girl was being swarmed by walkers.

"Andy!" Emma screamed. Half of the herd was beginning to swarm the car as well, and the rest were focusing on their two newest victims while Andy stood there motionless.

"Andy, run!" Emma yelled, backing the car up once again. She searched desperately for a spot to drive over the herd, but they were completely blocked. There was no way to get around even if she dared.

"Go!" she cried, letting the car back up and swerve to hit more walkers before she drove away from the scene.

The last thing Emma saw was Andrew running, hatchet in hand, as walkers pursued him down the highway that led to the coast.

* * *

><p>Emma drove in the direction they had come from, her eyes wide in shock as she tried to focus on the task at hand rather than everything that had just happened.<p>

_Andy. Andy. Andy. I gotta find Andy._

She didn't even know if he would still be alive if she found him. There had been dozens upon dozens, but the two people would serve as a distraction for many of them. Maybe he could have gotten away.

_Maybe._

Emma didn't dare hope. All she could do was assume the worst. Glancing down at the passenger side, she saw their two backpacks lying on the floor. Shaking her head violently to prevent crying, Emma pressed her foot harder on the gas pedal.

The glance off the road had been just enough time to not spot a walker that stood in the middle of the highway. Emma screamed as she hit it, its body falling forward onto the hood of the car as she swerved and tipped over, the passenger side falling first as it slid across the road.

_I'm dead. I'm dead. I'm dying. I'm dead. This is it. This is how it ends._

Emma couldn't count how many times she had thought that in the past year, but every time, her thoughts had been genuine.

The glass windows on the passenger side had now shattered. All the windows were damaged now, one way or another. The airbags had activated, and Emma pushed against it as she struggled to remove her seat belt. She had gotten a good distance between herself and the herd, but she needed to get out as quickly as possible.

Without thinking, Emma grabbed one of the backpacks.

_Andrew's_.

Closing her eyes for a split moment, Emma held onto it and crawled through the window.

As she slid down and landed on the road, Emma saw the walker she had hit still struggling. She quickly took care of it with her knife, then glanced behind her to see if there were any others.

This one seemed to have been alone.

Emma began to run diagonally at the side of the road, attempting to veer off in a direction that would allow her to go around the herd as best she could.

She ran for what felt like a lifetime, huffing through her breaths rhythmically, focusing on them with all she had. She couldn't break down. Not yet. She couldn't, she couldn't, she couldn't.

Despite her desperation to go on, her legs soon gave out on her. Emma's muscles quavered and she fell onto the grass, her breath catching in her throat as a muffled sob escaped her lips. Looking up ahead of her, Emma could do nothing but choke on her own tears. The thought of losing Andrew had been unbearable, and now it had happened. Now there was nothing she could do but continue on.

She didn't want to continue on though. All Emma wanted to do was lie there on the grass, take her pistol, and use that final bullet on herself.

She had no one to live for. No reason to go on.

She had the hope of the ocean before, but now…

The coast felt like a million miles away. Everything felt so distant.

She had lost too many. Her parents, her sister, and now Andrew. She couldn't bear to go on and face this world on her own for another moment.

Almost out of habit, Emma picked herself up again and continued walking, putting one foot in front of the other. Her sobs continued with each step, but she didn't care. She was making herself vulnerable, but it didn't matter. Nothing mattered.

Emma's pistol bounced around in her jacket pocket as she continued on, and she felt the weight of it with each step.


	9. Someone

Gravel crunched underneath Emma's bloodstained boots as her sore muscles pushed forward. Emma felt as though her legs and the rest of her body had divided. She wondered why they bothered to continue moving, or what she was pushing herself on for. Each step felt like dragging a brick across the road.

The sobs that continued to wrack her body had yet to attract any walkers, but Emma had a feeling that the gunshot noises had served as a better distraction. The herd would be growing, and the threat would increase along with it. Emma knew that seeing the group again would cost her life.

The house up ahead loomed over her, and Emma trudged on toward it. The hill it sat on gave a viewing advantage, and the tall Douglas firs hid it in the secluded forest. Emma knew it would be a good place to hide out for a few days if necessary. If she decided to live that long.

The home looked old, and the windows were boarded shut like so many other buildings across the state. Its large porch, roof, and gutters were covered with pinecones, branches, and layers of the dead, thin leaves that distinguished the Douglas firs from other trees. It reminded Emma of her childhood home, the trees shadowing over her as she brushed the porch off, knowing in a few days it would be covered again.

Emma took the few steps toward the front door, gripping tightly to her hunting knife. The porch creaked from underneath, and she checked behind her one final time before trying the doorknob. It turned easily, its age apparent through the rust that had developed on it long ago. Emma could see where previous owners had laid their hands on it, the metal smooth in the exact places Emma had touched.

The door squeaked as it opened, and Emma peered into the home without going inside. The floor and surrounding furnishings were covered in dust, and she could tell it had been abandoned early.

Her boot pounded on the doorframe in an attempt to lure any walkers trapped inside, but after waiting a full minute for any hint of noise, Emma realized no one was there.

She stepped into the house, the floorboards creaking almost as much as the porch had. A staircase sat directly in front of the door, and Emma turned to collapse onto it. Her chest tightened as she shuddered through her breaths, failing at any attempt to calm down. Feelings of defeat and heartbreak were consuming her. She had nothing left. No home, no family. No single person existed to keep her going. Not even the hope of a person.

Emma realized the hope of her grandparents had been futile. They weren't alive. They _couldn't_ be alive. The herd was a testament to that. Most appeared to be coastal citizens and tourists.

The Oregon coast had been hit just as hard as the rest of the world. Emma knew that. She had always known that, but the reality was sinking in, pushing away any hope she had left.

With shaking hands, Emma reached into her pocket and grabbed her pistol. The final bullet inside felt like the heaviest weight she had ever lifted, and her vision blurred with tears at the sight of it.

There seemed to be no way out. Andrew was gone. Her parents were gone. Her sister, her grandparent, her friends.

She would die soon. Emma knew that. The feeling of inevitable doom panged her chest even further as she thought of Andrew. Watching him run away with all of those walkers chasing after him, with nothing but a hatchet in his hand…

Emma couldn't stand the thought. He had been so _stupid_, running out like that to save a doomed life. How could he have been so stupid?

But that was who he was. Andrew would choose someone else's life over his every day he continued to breathe, and Emma knew that. His survival of the past year was a miracle in a lot of ways, but he had made it.

Until now.

Too many walkers had been after him. There was no way he could have made it out alive on his own.

Emma shook her head and looked down at the pistol, caressing it, feeling the cool metal against her skin.

_I should just opt out_, Emma thought. So many others had. She had seen it for herself, and especially the aftermath of it. Emma thought back to the forest ranger in the watchtower, his last bullet lodged into his brain upon discovery. There were many people like that; their corpses lying on the ground, a gun lying somewhere close by. Those people would never be buried, never be awakened. They would be left to rot.

Emma wondered if she should join them. She _wanted_ to join them. Thinking of her sister, her parents, and her grandparents welcoming them into their arms, together again, away from the world that had gone to hell.

Maybe this was hell. Maybe the religious leaders of the world had got it wrong, and the world was always meant to turn into hell. Maybe opting out would lead her to somewhere better.

No matter where a bullet through her brain would take her, Emma knew it would be better than this. Even if nothing were on the other side, at least she wouldn't be in fear. At least she could be at peace.

Emma placed the pistol in her mouth; aiming it in the way she had watched many others do it before her. It was the quickest option, the most direct. It hit the middle, the core, the life of her. It would be over in less than a moment if she wanted it to be. All the pain and suffering, it would all be gone. One click of the trigger, and she would be free from it all.

Emma closed her eyes and began counting.

_One alligator, two alligator, three_—

She couldn't stop crying. The tears wouldn't stop. Emma felt like a child again, sitting there, counting with alligators. All she wanted was her mother. Her sister. Her dad. Andy.

_Someone_, she thought to herself.

She needed to concentrate if this was going to happen. It had to happen. This was her last weapon, her last bullet, her last way to opt out on her own terms. Choosing not to would get her killed anyway.

Yet she was hesitating. Emma hated herself for it. Taking the gun out of her mouth, she glared at it. She could feel the sting of all her tears that had fallen on her cheeks in the past hour, and her chest felt heavy and tight from the overwhelming pain of loss.

_This is what heartbreak feels like_, Emma thought.

With a sudden flash of anger, Emma threw the pistol against a wall, and it fell onto the ground with a thud.

She screamed at the inanimate object, wailing in pain as she pounded the dusty floor with her fists. There was no way out of this hellhole. She knew that. Her instinct to live was too strong, no matter how tempting the alternative was.

"Andy," Emma mumbled through her tears, the words barely audible.

The noise of approaching feet on the porch caused Emma to turn her head in shock, and she instinctively grabbed her knife in response. The feet were moving too fast to be a walker, and the thought of a live threat felt worse than the entire herd coming at her. She had left the door slightly ajar, and the stranger was coming straight for it. Emma stood up quickly and attempted to back up down the hallway, her knife held in front of her. She wanted to run. She _needed _to run. Her feet felt as though they were glued to the floor, like a dream she couldn't wake up from. She glanced down at the pistol she had thrown, and just as she thought to reach down and grab it, the door swung open.

"Em!" Andy yelled, his eyes wide with fear. His entire body seemed to be covered in walker blood, stray guts resting in his hair and on his shoulders. It looked like he had purposefully smeared it on his face at one point. His hatchet was being held by both hands, ready to attack any threat that came near.

"Where is it?! Why were you screaming?! Did it bite you? Did—" but before Andy could get another word in, Emma's mouth was on his. Her knife had flung to the ground as soon as she had seen him, and her arms wrapped around him tightly as new tears of shock and relief began appearing in her eyes.

Andrew responded by pushing her away gently but quickly, concern written on his face.

"Is there a biter?"

Emma shook her head quickly, and Andrew grinned.

They kissed again, this time with more passion than Emma had ever experienced in her life. Her entire body felt like it was on fire, and she felt his hatchet fall to the floor as they wrapped their bodies around each other, unable to get close enough. The walker blood he had donned on himself was getting on them both, but neither seemed to give it a second thought. All Emma could do was keep her lips on his, barely giving them enough time to breathe as they explored each other's mouths. Each touch between them gave Emma chills up her spine, and each caress invigorated her senses in a way she didn't think was possible. Andy's hands cupped her neck gently, pulling Emma in as close as he could. They couldn't get enough of each other.

Emma felt as though she had escaped to another world. Maybe she _had_ let the gun go off. Maybe this was heaven.

Their bliss felt like it lasted for hours, and Emma's head felt fuzzy as Andy finally let their lips part.

"I'm sorry, Em. The girl, and—and I thought of my sister, I just couldn't—" he was blubbering, his words barely coming out as he tried to hold himself together. A tear escaped and landed on his cheek. Emma brushed it away with her thumb, smearing the blood that stained his face.

"It's okay, it's okay," Emma assured him. "You're here. You're alive. _We're_ alive."

Andrew pressed his forehead against hers and closed his eyes.

"I'm never leaving you again," he vowed. "I promise."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Please review!**


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